


I Can't

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, School Shootings, reaction fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-10 21:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Kurt?”</p><p>He can feel the blood leaving his face.</p><p>“…Kurt? Are you okay?”</p><p>“I…” He swallows, his eyes still locked on his text from Blaine.</p><p>Gun at schol I love you</p><p>It’s from over an hour ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can't

**Author's Note:**

> Reaction fic to episode 4x18, Shooting Star

Kurt’s in his acting class when he feels his phone vibrate in his back pocket. Thankfully, it’s not loud enough that his professor hears it—which is good, because he went apeshit on someone last week for the same thing. He’s curious, but it’s probably just Rachel, or Santana, reminding him about picking up milk ( _soy!!!!_ , Rachel always reminds him) or something else unimportant.

In fact, by the time he’s done with class, the text slips his mind completely.

“Hey.” Rachel pops out of the crowd outside his class, grabbing at his arm. “Want to grab a coffee before we head home?”

“Uh, you read my  _mind_.” Kurt leans into her, and she nudges her head against his chin. “Who ever thought acting classes could be exhausting?”

“Acting is very trying, Kurt,” Rachel replies as they head down the hall. “Especially if you’re doing it correctly.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, but takes it as the compliment she means it as.

His phone vibrates in his back pocket, and he scrambles to grab it without upsetting the bag looped over his shoulder.

“Santana?” Rachel pries.

“Probably. She needs to… Get a job, or a hobby, so she stops texting me in the middle of the day about Spanish soap operas…” He wakes up his phone, and the first text at the top is from Santana. But there’s another one, right below it, and Kurt stops walking as he reads it.

Rachel makes an indignant squeaking noise as she snaps back, looking at him with confused eyes.

“Kurt?”

He can feel the blood leaving his face.

“…Kurt? Are you okay?”

“I…” He swallows, his eyes still locked on his text from Blaine.

**Gun at schol I love you**

It’s from over an  _hour_  ago.

“Kurt?” Rachel prods again, her voice gentle, and Kurt just scrambles with his phone, sloppily missing Blaine’s number the first two times before he goes through. Rachel is still wiggling his arm.

It rings, and rings, and rings.

 _Please pick up_. Kurt closes his eyes.  _Please be okay_.

**Hi, you’ve reached Blaine. I can’t answer the—**

Kurt hangs up, breathing heavily, and then redials.

**Hi, you’ve reached Blaine. I can’t answer the phone—**

“UGH!” Kurt nearly throws his phone at the wall, and Rachel is still standing there, staring at him with wide, scared eyes.

“Kurt?” She hedges, carefully. “Is everything okay? Is it your dad?”

Kurt feels his  insides are about to heave out of him, and his eyes feel glassy. He presses his phone to his chest.

“…it’s Blaine,” Kurt chokes out, his breathing uneven. “He’s… There… He texted me. Um. Someone… With a gun at McKinley.”

Rachel gasps, hands flying to cover her mouth.

“Is he okay?”

“I don’t know!” Kurt yells, and a few people in the hallway stop to look at him. For once, he doesn’t particularly care. “I don’t… I don’t know, Rachel, I don’t.” He’s shaking, and he feels her arms wrap around him, pulling him close.

“He’s…” She swallows, arms tight around him. “He’s fine, Kurt. He’s fine. He’s okay.”

“You don’t know that,” Kurt whispers. “I need… God, I need to know he’s okay, I have to hear his voice, I have to keep trying.”

Rachel walks him to the Starbucks on the corner, and Kurt just keeps dialing Blaine’s number over and over and over again. She buys him his coffee, tucks them at a table in the back, and holds his hand. She tries to distract him, but it doesn’t work. Every time Blaine’s phone rings through to voicemail, it’s like another stone of cold dread settles in Kurt’s heart.

“He’s okay,” Rachel keeps whispering, even though she has no idea. Kurt’s pretty sure she doesn’t even believe it herself. But he knows she’s trying to help, stroking his hand, reassuring him. Kurt also knows that he’s crying,  _in public_ , that quiet tears are slipping from his eyes and his nose feels runny and snotty.

Kurt isn’t sure how many times he’s tried to call, only that he’s doing it basically on autopilot. It’s been almost half an hour since he started trying. Rachel says she has to use the restroom, and checks with him  _five times_  before Kurt snaps that it’s okay, he’s _fine_  (even though he really, really isn’t), before Rachel squeezes his hand and excuses herself.

This time, when he gets Blaine’s voicemail, he lets it play all the way through.

“Hi Blaine… Um, it’s Kurt. I just… God. I got your text, and I was in class, and I just.” Kurt grips his temples, leaning forward on the tiny, circular table. “Be okay. Please be okay. I… I need you to be okay. A lot of people need you to be okay, okay? Your parents, and Cooper, and… God, Blaine, it would  _kill_  my dad.” Kurt breathes heavily. “…it would  _kill_  me, Blaine. I don’t—losing you? I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. I can’t lose you Blaine, I can’t.” Kurt’s throat feels thick, and then he hears a beep in his ear. His eyes widen and he jerks away from the phone, and sees Blaine’s face smiling up at him from the screen.

The choked-off noise he makes is loud enough to draw the attention of a few of the Starbucks patrons sitting around him, but it doesn’t even register for him—not really. He hangs up on Blaine’s voicemail, sliding to answer the call.

“ _Blaine_ —” Kurt chokes out, and all he can hear is breathing,  _Blaine’s_  breathing, and it’s the most wonderful sound in the entire world.

“Oh god, Kurt.”

Kurt’s crying again, he knows he is, and god—why is he in New York? For once, New York is the last place on the planet he wants to be. He should be with Blaine right now.

“You’re okay,” he manages to whisper, the sound strangled. “God, you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” Blaine verifies, and Kurt grips his phone tightly—like somehow, the feeling will transfer. So that Blaine will know Kurt is holding his hand, or his waist, or  _him_ , entirely. It’s Blaine’s voice, and it’s enough, but at the same time—Kurt needs Blaine there, in his arms, just to be sure.

“You’re okay,” Kurt repeats, and his whole body sags, the tension that’s been strung through him finally snapping and letting him go. “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

Blaine’s voice is warmer when he says, “I’m okay.”

“ _Blaine_.” Kurt can’t even find his other words, cradling the phone against his cheek and feeling his own tears wet the screen and smudge against his skin. “I was so—I was in class, I’m sorry, and I was so scared. I thought—” Kurt’s voice breaks, because no. He doesn’t want to think about what he thought in the last half hour. He doesn’t want to think about it ever again.

“I know.” Blaine swallows, thick and loud over the phone. He’s been crying, Kurt can tell instantly. “I thought so, too, I thought I’d never…”

“No, no,” Kurt soothes, because as scared as he’s been, it’s nothing compared to what Blaine just went through. Kurt doesn’t even know the details, but they don’t matter, really. Blaine’s alive, but that doesn’t mean he’s okay, not really. Okay  _physically_ , maybe, but everything else? Kurt can’t even imagine. He’s feared for his life before, but not like that.  _Never_  like that.

“You’re okay.” This time, when Kurt says it, it’s soft. Not verifying it, but telling Blaine. He’s okay, he’s okay, he’s okay.

“I was so… I was so scared, Kurt, I didn’t… I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know what was going to happen, I didn’t—”

“I know, baby, I know.” The endearment slips out before Kurt can stop it, and he internally chastises himself. Yet… What’s the point of that now? If Blaine had been hurt, if something had happened to him today, would all of that mean anything anymore?

Or would Kurt be crying in his bedroom, soaked through with grief and regret? Having lost the only boy he’s ever loved?

“Kurt—”

“I love you, Blaine,” Kurt breathes out, because he needs Blaine to know that. It doesn’t fix everything, but… But the cracks seem so less severe, cast in this sort of light.

 _You’ve got to hold the people you love close to you, no matter what_.

“I… I love you, too, Kurt,” Blaine whispers down the phone, and Kurt can see him in his head. His eyes are closed, and his head is bent slightly, both hands holding his phone just like Kurt has both hands around his. “I love you so,  _so_  much.”

Kurt smiles, softly, even when he can still feel the tear tracks on his face. He can hear Blaine breathing on the phone, and god, Blaine probably has things to do, he was just in a traumatic incident, but Kurt can’t bear the thought of letting him go.

“Do you… Do you want to just talk for a little bit?” Kurt asks, hesitant.

“I… Yeah. Yeah, I would. What do you—”

“Anything. Anything you want to talk about, I just…” Kurt stops, and then wonders why he’s stopping. Life is too short to stop. “I just want to hear your voice.”

“…Yeah. Okay. Okay.”

Kurt glances up, and he sees Rachel standing a few feet away. She looks so hesitant and unsure, shifting her weight from foot-to-foot, and Kurt gives her a small smile. It’s enough, apparently, because she suddenly looks immensely relieved. She mimes getting more coffee, and he nods, and then he remembers that he’s  _in a coffee shop_ , not back in the loft.

But… What does it matter, really?

“So. Did you see the newest episode of Survivor?”


End file.
